The Power of Written Words
by sapereaude13
Summary: She ripped the note in half, marveling at the satisfaction it gave her to tear his words apart, just like the loss of him had torn her in two all these months. Postgame. BalthierAshe.


You always want to be forgiven,

The devil does what you ask of me.

-Beach House, _Master of None_

--

When the letter arrived, she didn't actually believe it until she once again felt the cool metal of Rasler's ring in her palm. She'd been in a council meeting when it came, and it was so absolutely necessary to get the language perfect for the new law that she had told the messenger to leave the letter in her chambers. If she'd only known it wasn't just any letter, she'd have let the law pass as is. But thinking back, it was probably best that her council wasn't around when she read his handwriting on the note. It wouldn't have been good for them to see their Princess shaking and trembling, then collapsing to her knees in relief.

She had truly believed him dead. Weeks of searching in the rubble hadn't turned up their bodies, but everything was so mangled that it would have taken a real miracle to survive. He'd still been speaking to them over the intercom when Vaan had piloted the Strahl away from the crashing Bahamut, and Balthier's cheerful tones still rang in her ears as they flew out of radio range. Then his voice had abruptly cut out. Ashe spent eleven months reliving those last few moments. She remembered how calm he'd sounded as he chattered to Vaan about the Strahl...and then she remembered the silence that followed.

But now that she had the letter and the ring, actual proof of that miracle, the relief was quickly ebbing. It was fading so fast, she almost didn't believe herself capable of such anger. But anger it was, and she read the note again. Eleven months and he didn't think to contact her until now? The words blended together as she blinked away hot tears. Not even an apology, just a hint of "catch me if you dare" implied in his "something more valuable." She picked herself up off the floor and stomped out onto the balcony. Deep inside, she knew that she was overjoyed to know he and Fran were still alive, but anger was more important right now. She ripped the note in half, marveling at the satisfaction it gave her to tear his words apart, just like the loss of him had torn her in two all these months.

She tore it again and then again, making it into confetti mingled with little bits of pirate ink. Ashe let her fist extend over the edge of the balcony ledge, her breaths coming in large gulps. She stretched out her fingers, letting the tiny pieces of paper fly in the breeze. Eleven months, and he couldn't bring the ring back in person? The feelings she had must not have been mutual. A sliver of paper was left, sticking to her sweaty palm. She wrenched it from her skin, holding in a scream at "our Queen" still visible on this remnant of the note.

-------

Her coronation had gone smoothly, but it was not the celebration she had expected. Basch was there, but in his role as Larsa's protector, they had not been able to exchange more than the usual pleasantries. To speak alone with "Judge Gabranth" would indeed have appeared strange to the gathered diplomats and nobles. Vaan and Penelo had declined their invitations to the fete that night, and Ashe quaked in fury just thinking about it. The sky pirates in training couldn't make the fete because they were in Bervenia with Fran and Balthier. The snub had clearly not been intentional. They were still young after all, and who could blame them for going on another adventure? But despite being surrounded by adoring, sycophantic masses all day, the new Queen felt a loneliness creeping through every bit of her.

Her feet ached as she stood at the banquet hall door, shaking hands and accepting polite kisses from her guests as they departed. Each one received a smile and a personal thank you from Queen Ashelia, but Ashe the woman longed for the night to just end. Duty won out, but she had already felt a few blisters pop, and she just wanted to lie under her covers and let the darkness take her for the night. There would be no ceremony tomorrow, just a few meet and greets with various parties. Work she could more easily lose herself in; work that was for her people's benefit rather than for mere show.

Her Uncle Halim was the last in line to depart. He embraced her. "I have been made aware that your friends survived the Bahamut's fall. This is wondrous news."

She nodded numbly. "Yes, they did. But they were unable to join us tonight. A more pressing engagement," Ashe replied, and Halim's eyes softened in some sort of realization. He squeezed her shoulder and departed, his small entourage trailing after him. Her expected role for the evening completed, she tried to assist the servants in clearing the banquet tables. She was swiftly dismissed by one of the butlers.

A wry grin crossed her face at this, and she removed her shoes and enjoyed the cool marble beneath her feet as she walked to her chamber. Her maid helped her change into her nightgown, and she sat at her vanity to brush out her hair. She reached a knotted mess at the back of her head and decided to just give up, setting the brush down and putting out the lights. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and met the ring where it had rested for nearly a month now. The letter was easily disposed of, but the ring was now her only tangible connection to the sky pirate. As angry as she still was, her long-suppressed sentimental side had reared its ugly head, and so she kept the ring where she could see it.

Ashe let her finger trace around the metal band. She smirked cruelly, wondering if the damned pirate had gotten himself stuck in some Bervenian jail for trespassing. She let that thought entertain her for several moments until she heard a stirring out on her balcony. An assassin? It would have been far more prudent to get her during the coronation parade earlier that day. She crept over to her bed as she heard some impatient person trying to pick the lock on her balcony door. Her heavy curtains were drawn, so she'd give the bastard a good surprise. She pulled a dagger from beneath her mattress and snuck about in the shadowy room to stand beside the curtain.

Whoever he or she was, they had made quick work of the lock. She felt the cool breeze as the door was opened, and the curtains swayed. She knew she had the advantages of both surprise and her eyes being adjusted to the darkness in the room. A tall man emerged through the curtains, and she stepped in front of him, holding the dagger up to his throat.

An unexpected chuckle emerged, and she felt a shiver course through her. "Well, hello Princess. You don't know how many fantasies you've just fulfilled." So those would be his first words to her after a year? He raised a hand to push the dagger blade away from his throat, but she wouldn't budge. "Very well. I suppose I am a bit more charmed to see you than vice versa."

"You're supposed to be in Bervenia." And those would be her first words in reply? She moved the dagger away from Balthier's throat and moved to her vanity, lighting a solitary candle. He followed her, leaning with his arm up against her bedpost.

"Ah, Bervenia was a bust. The Cache of Glabados was no more than a campfire tale, it seems. I might need that ring back."

She raised her eyebrows at the audacity of his words and grabbed the band from the vanity, holding it tightly. Her anger was making the hair on her arms stand on end, and she could barely stand to look at him. He was the picture of perfect health, well-groomed as he had always been, and with the arrogance that seemed to radiate from that damned smile she had been foolish enough to fall for. "Get out."

He laughed. "I'm joking, I don't want it back."

She took a step towards him. "I'll not ask you again. Get out." He did not make a move to do so. "I will not hesitate to arrest you."

Balthier dared to smile at her threat. "I've no doubt." He moved away from the bedpost to stand in her personal space. She should have called for a guard, but so much was flooding back that she did not want him to be gone just yet. She had to call him on his behavior this past year.

She scowled at him, wishing that she was tall enough to stare him in the eye without craning her neck. "Did you break your hand?" she inquired.

His face fell. "Did I what?"

"In the crash," she continued, trying to put as hard an edge in her voice as she could. "You must have broken it, seeing as eleven months went by without so much as a word about your survival."

The sky pirate held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "Now Ashe, about that…"

"Eleven months. We thought you were dead. Did you know we searched the wreckage for you?"

"Princess…"

She was grateful for the darkness in the room as her face grew hot, and her voice finally began to break. "I had to stare at that damned Bahamut, to stare at the place where you _died_ every single day." He moved forward, reaching a hand out to her. "Don't." He retracted the hand and sighed.

"Ashe, what do you want me to say?"

His response staggered her, and she stood there frowning. He moved past her to perch himself on her vanity, and she moved to sit on her bed. "You could start with what happened."

He nodded, crossing his arms. "Fran and I found a decent enough hiding place. Decent enough to stay alive, but with a few scrapes."

"A few scrapes?"

She inhaled sharply as he untucked his shirt from his trousers. "Do you really want to see?" Would it make her feel better to know that he'd been gravely hurt? She shook her head, and he released his grip on his shirt. "So Fran and I managed to get picked up by one of the Rozarrian ships, but I guess we were pretty banged up, and they carted us off. Wasted a few months there, and they let us go. By all accounts, they should have locked us up, considering our occupations. But your_ friend_ Margrace…" Ashe raised her eyebrows at the way Balthier spat Al-Cid's name out, and he looked away. "He let us go free, so good on him, I suppose."

"And then?" she inquired, trying to relax. He'd been out of Rozarria for months, healed. And without a word to her or the others?

He met her eyes. "We got back to work."

She rose from the bed. It was time for her to get back to work then. "I see. Well, it has been wonderful to see you. But if you don't mind, I have a busy morning tomorrow…"

He had moved to grasp her hand, and she nearly jumped out of her skin at how quickly he'd moved from the vanity to stand close once again. "I should have told you."

Ashe could not meet his eyes. His words sounded sincere enough, but he was a consummate actor, wasn't he? Perhaps he'd tired of his usual conquests and decided to try his luck on a more interesting target? Why break into her bedchamber otherwise? Perhaps he expected her to welcome him back with open arms. He squeezed her hand, letting his thumb caress her knuckles. Perhaps he also expected her to welcome him back with open legs, she thought crudely. "Let me make it up to you, Ashe," he purred, and she pulled her hand back. She would not fall for his seductive voice once more.

She headed over to the balcony and pushed the curtains aside. "I think you had better leave."

The playfulness was gone, replaced with a seriousness she had not heard from him since that day at the Phon Coast. "I came here to apologize."

"And I accept. Good night, Balthier." She could feel her hands shaking, and she clasped them together behind her back. "Please make an appointment next time you feel like breaking and entering."

He seemed to finally understand her dismissal, and he walked past her and out to the balcony. "It was quite a parade today. You looked lovely." She couldn't bear to hear his words, shutting the door behind him to let him find his own way back out of the palace grounds. She opened her palm, still holding the ring, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

-----

The day had gone slowly. Endless throngs of people with grievances, some with merit and others…not so much. But she'd patiently endured dozens of petitions from this guild or that, and she shifted in her seat. If she'd had her way, she'd meet privately in her drawing room with petitioners, but her advisors told her that she would strike a more powerful image if she could address her subjects in the throne room. She'd gone along with them for the time being, but as soon as she was more comfortable in her new role as monarch, she would rule as she saw fit.

The door opened, and the next visitor was announced. "Admiral Bunansa of the battleship Strahl." She withheld a smile and dismissed the various servants and attendants as Balthier marched in proudly. He walked up to her throne and bowed gracefully, not moving to raise his head until the room was empty.

"So you're an Admiral now, Balthier?"

He rose from his bow and gave her a wink. "Too much?"

"Well, seeing as how you were the second cousin of the Gran Kiltias twice removed last week, I suppose not."

Balthier sat down casually on the steps beside her seat. "I'm still surprised he announced that one with a straight face. You might want to hold onto that fellow." She smiled and shook her head. For the past few weeks, the sky pirate had taken her request for him to make an appointment seriously and had been paying official visits to report on his activities.

It had been nothing more than a casual chat each time, but it appeared that Balthier genuinely wished to win back her friendship and apologize for not telling her he'd been alive. Try as she did to ignore the feelings that were resurfacing, Ashe could not stifle her attraction to him. He offered keen insights since he was able to get out and travel Ivalice in a way she could not. He seemed to be an unofficial diplomat, bringing back news from as far away as Balfonheim. She usually stopped his news when it came to the latest pilfering activity he and Fran had engaged in.

"To what do I owe the pleasure today, Admiral?"

He shook his head and sat sideways on the steps below her. He gave her foot a gentle tap with his palm where it stuck out beneath her gown, and he smiled up at her. "A personal favor."

"I receive dozens of requests for favors daily."

"As I am well aware, but this one benefits both myself and your beautiful country," he replied, and she quirked an eyebrow. She was intrigued and nodded for him to continue. "I was doing some light reading the other day, and I happened upon an interesting passage."

"This isn't story time. Please feel free to come to the point, Balthier."

He laughed and gave her foot another little shove. She was grateful for the empty throne room. If her ministers saw what she let the man get away with, there would be hell to pay. "Yes, well, this passage being article five, section thirty-nine, item sixty-one of the Lex Dalmascae…"

"You were reading my law code?" she asked incredulously.

He sighed overdramatically. "You've always been one to interrupt, Your Highness. So as I said, I was reading this section and it happens to mention…"

"Piracy."

"Yes, quite."

"And how it continues to be punishable by imprisonment in this country?"

"That too. But I couldn't help but notice the wording in the text. Forgive me, I've actually copied it down," he rambled, pulling a small slip of paper from his pocket. The sky pirate stood and dared to sit on the arm of her chair, wrapping his arm around the back of her seat.

Balthier dangled the slip of paper in her face, and she snatched it away. "I am sure you are familiar with your own law code, considering the wonderful, wide-sweeping changes you've made to it in the past few months, but if I could just refresh Your Highness' memory…"

Ashe glared at him as he perched on her chair like a vulture, and she crumbled the paper and tossed it on the ground. "Absolutely not."

"I haven't even said what I'm requesting!" he complained.

She scowled. She did not need her memory refreshed. "Item sixty-one of section thirty-nine alludes to piracy commissioned by the crown. Of looting sanctioned by a sitting monarch in a time of war as a means of covertly engaging the enemy."

The sky pirate smiled widely. "So here I am, on behalf of Fran and myself. Let me serve as your personal pirate. I will happily split my proceeds with your treasury, provided that I am kept from the hangman's noose. I will even consider offering you the greater percentage if you extinguish the bounty on my head."

She did not know where to begin with his preposterous scheme. "First things first, Admiral. I could only commute the bounty you've piled on your head in Dalmascan territory. You'll need to sweet talk Larsa for the rest, I imagine." He wrapped himself more comfortably about her throne, letting his legs dangle across her lap to rest on the other arm of the seat. "And another thing! Dalmasca is not at war!"

He began to fiddle with the crown on her head, letting his fingers move gracefully across the jewels. He was like some devil perched on her shoulder. "Then start one…" She batted his hand away angrily. "Or change the law."

The Queen could bear no more. She rose huffily from the seat, knocking him to the floor. The sound of his rear smacking down on the marble and his confused "Oh!" gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn't known in some time. He got to his feet and rubbed his backside, a sour look crossing his features.

She moved to stand by one of the throne room's large windows and stared out at her capital. "Change the law? Your personal favor is for me to change the law to protect your sorry pirate hide?" He hobbled down the steps to stand beside her.

"All you need do is take out the clause about it being a wartime thing. Nobody reads the damned law codes anyhow. It's not to save my hide so much as give me an official excuse to visit you and engage in my profession at the same time."

She looked up at him in ever increasing awe. "I cannot believe you! You waltz back into my life after being gone for nearly a year…"

He put his finger in her face. "I was out of commission for half of that year, and I've already apologized about that!"

"And you think that since we're such good friends, I'll change the law so you can come flirt with me?"

Balthier smiled. "It's tempting isn't it? Absolute power?" Ashe could only gape at him. He smirked at her for a few moments, then turned back to retrieve the crumpled bit of law code from the floor. "Surely all those old men ask why some rogue keeps paying you visits alone in your throne room?"

"I am their Queen, and I see many visitors in private," she managed to croak out. He was standing far too close again, and even though she would not cave in to his legislative demands, she was beginning to worry about any other demands he might make of her. "I'm not changing the law, Balthier. You've insulted me by even asking."

He leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Then may I suggest you reread article five, section thirty-nine, item _sixty-two_?" He grabbed her hand and slid the piece of paper into it. The sky pirate leaned back and waited, his closeness causing her mind to slow. She could barely remember the clause after sixty-one, and his scrawl on the note was barely legible.

Balthier moved behind her, holding her around the waist and perching his head upon her shoulder. He held the paper in front of her face and read it aloud. "In times of peace, the crown may see fit to authorize missions of piracy to the lawless reaches of Ivalice, there to benefit the nation's treasury."

She could not believe that she hadn't changed that clause. It was some relic of years past, intended to punish races like the Urutan-Yensa for their interruptions of caravans between Dalmasca and Rozarria. It was nothing more than bullying, but Balthier had found it. He'd meant to trick her all along. His lips were at her ear again, making her eyes flutter close. "So since you've so vehemently expressed your opinions on changing the laws, I will humbly request that you honor item sixty-two. Will you authorize something for me?"

His words were slow and intoxicating, but she could feel her heart racing. "Authorize what?"

"I'd like to go back to old Raithwall's place. I'm sure there's something there that we never found on our first walkthrough. You did trick me into going with the promise of treasure, my lady, and I intend to collect."

"Just you and Fran?"

"I've no intention of sharing with Vaan," he mumbled then, letting his breath continue to tickle her ear. "I'll only share with you." She could feel her whole body begin to tremble as he pressed his lips against her neck. The thought of feeling him so close was something she spent many long nights on their journey suppressing. And now here he was, his arm holding her back against him, and she was tilting her head to grant him greater access to her neck. His fingers trailed lazily up the bare flesh of her arm, and she sighed.

He whispered her name against her skin, and then let his tongue dart out to taste her. It jolted her back to the reality that she was letting a pirate seduce her in her throne room. She pulled away and readjusted the diadem on her head. Ashe cleared her throat and moved back to sit on her throne. Balthier remained by the window awaiting her response.

"I will have it notarized that on this day, I granted the pirates Bunansa and Fran permission to explore the Tomb of King Raithwall in accordance with article five, section thirty-nine, item sixty-two," she said as steadily as she could, her hands gripping the arms of her seat. "Now get out of my sight."

"By your command," he replied with a wink, bowing low to her. He turned on his heel and left the chamber, the door clicking shut behind him. Her ministers returned as always, sensing nothing amiss that she could tell. The scribe diligently took down the result of her meeting with the sky pirate, and she knew she would barely be able to concentrate on the next several petitioners.

---

The parchment continued to shake in her hands, and she set it down on the desk. Minister Franze was right – she shouldn't have read it. The pure vitriol in the inky words jumped from the page, embedding itself in her mind. Upon her first reading, she had simply been furious. But after a second, a third…a fourth, she had grown anxious and upset.

A sob wanted to rip through her, and her sides ached from holding it in. Ashe blinked repeatedly, trying to ignore the tears that were forming. Even in private, she did not wish to cry. To cry would be admitting some truth in the hate-filled letter that sat inches from her fingers.

_Shame us all…father would be disgusted…common harlot…_

She shut her eyes and backed away from the desk, knocking her chair to the floor with a muffled thud as it hit the rug. She stared down at the harmless looking parchment and couldn't suppress it any longer. Biting down on her knuckle hard enough to draw blood, she let the sob out, but would not let it reach the ears of any other person.

_Lived in squalor beneath our own streets and you would let one who steals from your own… _

It was all lies. She could not possibly please everyone, but what if there were others in Dalmasca who felt the same? The thought of that brought her to the floor, her hands pressed against her head, bunching in her hair and mussing it in her frustration. The Queen didn't even hear the balcony door open and shut, only feeling a rush of air as he knelt down at her side.

"Are you alright?" His voice was calm, and she did not want him to witness her disgrace. Turning immediately away, she rose to her feet and began to rub at her eyes furiously.

Her voice was cracking, not her own. "You are not to break into this room, Balthier. You've adhered to your appointments thus far…"

He stood behind her, not yet trying to get too close. "I was a bit tied up today, so I thought I'd stop by now. Have I interrupted something?" She wiped a few more tears away, but hearing the concern in his voice was making things worse. Her face was hot, and she held a hand to her mouth to avoid another wracking cry. She let her shaking hand gesture to the parchment on the table. Ashe listened as he picked up her chair and set it to rights, then heard the rustling of the paper as he picked it up.

His voice was emotionless as he read the words out loud. "That Your Majesty consorts with sky pirates is a disgrace to all Dalmasca. Piracy is clearly prohibited by the Lex Dalmascae and granting them clemency based on an archaic statute is an insult. For years, your people lived in squalor beneath our own streets and you would let one who steals from your citizens treat you…"

"Please, stop reading it," she mumbled, finally turning to look at him.

"…as a common harlot, polluting the Dalmascan marriage bed with his Archadian…"

"Stop." She sighed and sat down upon her bed heavily. There was no question that it was a petulant noble, someone probably used to being in favor under her father who lacked status in her new reign. But it took only one man or woman to write the hateful letter…how many more agreed with him? How many now saw her as traitor to her father's memory? A whore on the throne? She was acting in accordance with the law, although granting Balthier's favor a few weeks ago had not really been her best judgment.

"Surely you have someone to go through your post? Keep this rubbish from your eyes?" he asked quietly, returning the vicious paper to the desk. His voice was laced with guilt. He held out a handkerchief tentatively, and she accepted it. The sky pirate sat beside her on the quilt, his hands on his knees.

"I have a right to read my own death threats," she replied sadly, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. He rose to return to the desk, but she wouldn't let him finish the rest of the nasty letter. She grasped his sleeve. "You don't need to read that part. I've read it enough myself. It's ugly."

"I want to know what he said to you," Balthier replied defensively. "So when he turns up dead, they'll all know why I murdered him." Her head spun at his words, and she released his sleeve. But she would not watch him read it. Sliding off the bed, she trudged over to her sideboard and poured herself a glass of water with a trembling hand. He wouldn't need to read this out loud, and she already had the contents burned into her.

_Perhaps Dalmasca would have been less of a disgrace if you'd really taken your own life. Rozarria stones traitors in the streets. And whorish swine as well. I would see the same done here in Rabanastre. A false Queen who flouts the law is unacceptable and a danger to us all._

She listened to him tear the parchment noisily, making smaller pieces each time until she heard him grunt to rip the chunks further. "Do you know who wrote this?" She shook her head and sipped the water shakily. Ashe wouldn't have thought any of the nobility that surrounded her capable of such words, but she was obviously very wrong about them all. He dumped the scraps on the floor and approached her. She faced the sideboard, setting down her water glass. He let his hands rest on her shoulders. There was a tension in his hands she didn't think him capable of, but here she was crying like a babe. It was a night for contradictory behavior.

He spoke again. "I want to know his name as soon as you discover it."

"No. A trial, Balthier. And execution mandated by the state, not by yourself." Threatening the monarch, even anonymously, was punishable by death if the culprit was discovered. Her voice was still not her own, but one of a stranger. A weakened sound that repulsed her.

The sky pirate turned her around, but she could not look up at him. "Don't do this to yourself. They are the words of an anonymous coward. Ashe, you've done more for this country than…"

She sighed. "I may have, but all that matters to the old guard is that I get married and produce legitimate male children. To touch a man who is not my husband is as good as prostituting myself."

"Well they can hang for all I care…"

"Yet here I am, in my chambers alone at night with a man who is not my husband. A man who has a bounty on his head for pilfering from the homes of those old fools." Balthier's public visits were as nothing compared to the reaction her detractors would have if they saw her right now. In naught but a nightgown, another man's hands on her flesh. She finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Am I not a disgrace?"

She was silenced by his lips pressing firmly against hers, his hands holding her face. Was this not what that horrible note was accusing her of doing? But she'd longed for this over a year ago, and then the desire had rekindled within her these past few weeks. It did not feel shameful; it felt wondrous. Ashe could tell that Balthier's guilt about the threatening letter was holding him back. She pulled away, catching her breath. He brought her palm to his mouth, pressing a kiss against the sensitive skin there. "You are anything but a disgrace, Ashe. I have wronged you." He dropped her hand and backed away, leaving her suddenly cold. His footsteps to the balcony doors were quick. "I shall not trouble you again. I would never want you to be harmed because of my actions."

He was leaving her? Again? The words from the letter now torn to shreds on her rug still echoed, but she was already missing the feeling of his lips on her own. "Please stay."

Balthier paused at the door frame, his shoulders sinking. "You know I cannot. You've already caved to enough of my base interests. I'll not be the catalyst of a coup d'etat."

Her sorrow was gradually being replaced with anger. "I forbid you to leave."

He whirled around and shot her a strange look. "You forbid me?"

She could feel her strength returning, the thought of him turning his back on her and walking a second time propelling her to action. Granted, the first time had been to save her country, but this time would be different. She would know that he was out there, staying away intentionally. Ashe could not let him sever ties with her, even for her own well-being. "I cannot let one letter cow me into submission." She would not be afraid of idle threats, but the next few moments of silence between them were even more frightening than the scattered fragments of parchment on her floor. They stared at each other, and she willingly decided to break first.

Ashe took a tentative step forward, and to her relief, he met her halfway. "After this," he began hesitantly, reaching his hand to wrap a lock of her hair around his fingers, "there can be no more public visits. I will not jeopardize your reputation further."

She closed her eyes, reliving the past few weeks and how his appearances at court had brightened even the most lackluster days. "There is equal danger in this," she replied quietly as she reached a hand around his back, her fingertips grazing the metal clasps that held his vest to his form.

"I like to live dangerously, Princess," he noted, and she would not rebuke his use of her former title. Not with the seductive edge he now added to it. His hand drifted away from her hair to rest against her cheek, his thumb grazing her lips. She felt like she was standing at some precipice, the sensations he was evoking in her by simply touching her lips pushing her closer to the edge.

He moved his lips to where his thumb had been only for a moment before taking them away again, pressing them instead against her cheeks. She wanted nothing more than to look at him, but keeping her eyes shut heightened the feeling of his lips on her skin. He drifted lower to leave a hot trail of kisses down her neck. He reached the high collar of her nightgown, and he slipped a finger down to hold the fabric aside as he laid a kiss on her collarbone. She could barely breathe at the slowness of his actions, and she could feel her knees shuddering as he continued his exploration. One hand held the nightgown cloth aside while the other rested possessively on her hip. He suddenly nipped at her skin, causing her to cry out in surprise. Her jolt caused her to undo the clasp on his vest, and she enjoyed the warm chuckle he released against her throat.

She could no longer bear the methodical way he was seducing her, and the rest of the clasps were hastily undone. He pulled away from her finally to slip the garment off. Ashe watched with anticipation as he untucked his shirt from his trousers, her mind flashing back to the night he had first returned. She stilled his hands as they moved to unbutton the shirt. "Let me," she said quietly, and he dropped his hands to his sides obediently.

"Warts and all," he mumbled, and she raised her eyes curiously. His eyes were entirely serious, and she recalled how he had wanted to show her the "few scrapes" he had endured in the Bahamut crash. She diligently undid each button until the shirt hung open, and all she could see was well-defined flesh that was only a few shades darker than her own. He grasped her hand then, bringing it to the top of the garment. She slid it aside, holding back a smirk at a round, raised scarring near his shoulder. She let her fingers flit across the old bullet wound, and he smiled. "You should have seen the other chap."

Ashe returned his smile and moved the shirt from his shoulder. She heard him inhale sharply as she moved her hand to remove the other sleeve, and her smile faded. Looking up to see his eyes squeezed shut, she gave the sleeve a tug and let the garment fall to the floor. She could feel tears sting her eyes at the long purple slash of a scar that marred his near-perfect skin. It ran down his side from under his arm to just beneath his ribcage. "Shrapnel wound. Looks much better than it did a few months ago," he explained quietly, his voice a bit shaky. He'd been seriously hurt, all to save Rabanastre.

He tried to lower his arm to cover the scar, but she brought her fingers to it, traversing its entire path down his side. It was a part of him now, like the old bullet wound. "I am sorry." It was all she could say. She pressed her head against his chest then, wrapping her arms around him, hoping that he could understand how grateful she was for what he'd done for her country. He was finally forgiven. He embraced her in return, kissing the top of her head.

His fingers slipped from her back to tug on her nightgown, letting his hands caress her legs as he inched the fabric upward. He seemed to be recovering from showing his scarring to her and was soon kissing her once again. She released the residual anger and resentment she had for him as she walked slowly backwards, pulling him along to her bed. The threat-laden letter remained in shreds on her floor, the charges against her reputation growing meaningless and empty as he finished removing his clothing.

The words held no power now. The fury over his letter from Bervenia, the outdated clauses of the Lex Dalmascae, and the harsh accusations against her character. They were as nothing as their mouths tasted one another, as their limbs intertwined. No words could be written that would match the power of these moments.


End file.
